


Just Like Breathing

by morganight



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Rutting, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganight/pseuds/morganight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Have you heard of shotgunning?" he asked with feigned casualness, idly toying with the joint.</p><p>"Shotgunning?" John looked at him blankly. Sherlock released a long-suffering sigh. Sometimes he wondered if John just enjoyed having everything explained to him. </p><p>"Yes. I inhale, then you inhale my exhale. Fairly simple, I doubt even you could get it wrong; it's just like breathing."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> My first Johnlock fic! My first fic in a while, actually. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Enjoy!

It had been a long case, full of late nights for both and a few broken dates for John. In the end, though, Sherlock had solved it as he always managed to do, pointing NSY to the culprit -- it had been the victim's son, for God's sake, albeit a bastard that the man hadn't even known existed.

None of that managed to surprise John, not after the countless other cases they had worked on together. What had roused his suspicion was how readily Sherlock agreed to get the paperwork done right away, volunteering to meet back in Lestrade's office.

About an hour and a half later, John and Sherlock were finally home and the doctor was too overtired to sleep just yet, the excitement of a newly-solved case still buzzing in his brain. He collapsed onto the sofa as the pair stumbled through the door, both laughing like mad at something neither could remember. He threw his arm over his eyes as whatever it had been lost its humour, trying to catch his breath. He wasn't even aware of how close Sherlock was until he heard the rich, smooth voice practically right against his ear.

"John."

The blogger moved his arm enough to peek with one eye at the other man. 

"Where the hell did you get that?" he asked, frowning. Sherlock was holding up a small clear plastic bag containing what John could only assume was marijuana. 

"Nicked it," Sherlock replied with a shrug, as though it were obvious. John's brain was sluggish with exhaustion, but it eventually connected in his mind. 

"Ah ha. That's why you insisted on the paperwork so soon." He had moved his arm away completely now, sitting up straighter and licking his lips. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at that, clearly surprised he wasn't being scolded already. Couldn't hurt to push his luck a bit further. 

"Smoke it with me." It wasn't a question, but John was nodding anyway. He chalked his eagerness up to the adrenaline still thrumming through his veins, ignoring his inner model citizen and doctor for the moment. What would a little weed hurt, anyway? The detective was already up, rummaging through a drawer and pulling out a few roll-up papers and a cheap navy lighter. He took up one of the papers, sprinkling some of the marijuana in a generous but neat line down the middle.

"Have you before?" he questioned absently, not looking up as he rolled the joint with a methodical, practised ease.

"Er, once or twice at uni," John responded, watching as Sherlock licked the tab on the paper to get it to stick together. "Never liked smoking anything, drugs never appealed to me."

"Mm. Unsurprising." Sherlock had moved back to the couch, sitting about a foot away from John. He stuck the joint between his lips, lighting the end and sucking. His cheeks hollowed out around it as the end glowed orange and bathed him in a faint light, making his features look nearly skeletal in the dim room. When he had filled his lungs with a long, slow drag, he pinched the joint between his thumb and pointer finger and let out two streams of smoke from his nostrils. John thought he looked like a dragon and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Nervous energy, he realised. He tried to copy the sleuth when he had the joint in his own fingers, but ended up coughing all of the smoke back up almost instantly. Sherlock snorted lightly at the failed attempt and took the joint from John.

"You'll never get high if you hack up the smoke."

"I bloody well know that," John spat, voice still a bit tight from his coughing fit. "I'm out of practise."

"You were never in practise. I don't often indulge in this, and I won't have you wasting half of it." Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John, then a solution struck him. "Have you heard of shotgunning?" he asked with feigned casualness, idly toying with the joint.

"Shotgunning?" John looked at him blankly. Sherlock released a long-suffering sigh. Sometimes he wondered if John just enjoyed having everything explained to him. 

"Yes. I inhale, then you inhale my exhale. Fairly simple, I doubt even you could get it wrong; it's just like breathing. It also burns less going in."

John swallowed. "Yeah, we could give that a try," he agreed, nodding and trying not to look at Sherlock's mouth. He had seen people do that at parties, but he had never wanted to partake until now.

Sherlock smirked. "Excellent. Part your lips," he ordered, relighting the joint and taking in another lungful. John did as he was told, turning to face Sherlock, feeling his ears start to burn. They leaned closer together, stopping with a few centimetres between their open lips. Sherlock let the smoke billow out of his lungs slowly, watching it disappear into John's mouth as the blonde sucked it in, his eyes shut as he tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

"Hold it in," Sherlock told him, using the closeness to examine John's face, noting the light blush on his cheeks and how fair his eyelashes were. He was pleased with the effect the drug was having; his mind had slowed its constant reeling, seeming to only focus on the doctor, finding an anchor there. It was like a welcomed relief. 

John's eyes opened and snapped up to the grey ones in front of him, holding the smoke for several seconds before exhaling it smoothly into a white cloud that seemed to hang around their shoulders, boxing them away in their own world, creating a new kind of intimacy for the flatmates. He licked his lips, feeling his head start to buzz in a different way that had nothing to do with exhaustion.

"Again?" He watched as Sherlock inhaled a third time, opening his mouth readily as the brunet leaned in and gave him another recycled drag, trying to ignore the way his lips tingled in anticipation. Not that there was anything to anticipate, he rationalised, his mouth was just confused by the teasingly close proximity. He kept his eyes open this time and they darted from Sherlock's eyes locked on his to the full pink lips so close to his own, holding the smoke a little longer than before. This seemed very erotic, he thought, breathing smoke directly out of Sherlock's lungs and into his own, close enough to touch but neither daring to take the final leap. His mouth was starting to dry out along with his eyes and his limbs felt heavier. Letting out the smoke, he plucked the joint from Sherlock's long fingers.

"Let me try."

Sherlock looked at him curiously but nodded, watching John intently as he took a surprisingly steady pull without hacking up a lung.

When John leaned forward, Sherlock sat up a bit straighter, remaining perfectly still as he let John come closer. He felt their lips brush, barely touching as the smoke flowed effortlessly between them. It made his spine tingle pleasantly and he had to shut his eyes, thinking John had just accidentally gotten too close. He barely registered the fact that John still hadn't pulled away until he had released the smoke back into the air and felt a soft pair of lips pressing against his. Unsure of what else to do, he reciprocated the kiss carefully, letting one of his hands rest along the back of John's neck as he felt a hand settle against his hip. All too soon, John pulled away.

"Sorry," he breathed, a lazy smile on his face that contradicted his apology. "The weed."

"Right. Was that also part of your uni experiences with drugs? We're two grown men, John. If you want to kiss me, you needn't hide behind an excuse." His words had lost some of their usual bite as the drug took effect, his voice reduced to a low, steady rumble that rolled through John like thunder. 

John blinked owlishly at him. "Alright." He stubbed the joint out against the coffee table before leaning in again, kissing Sherlock earnestly and wrapping his arms around the slender waist of the other man. Sherlock hummed in pleasant surprise, having expected John to recoil with his shield knocked away. Their lips moved together carefully and Sherlock learned that John liked to bite and nip; John discovered that Sherlock liked it. When they pulled apart to breathe, they each took in the state of the other -- heavy lids drooping over pink eyes and kiss-swollen lips tinged red -- and dissolved into a fit of giggles. It was somehow even funnier than whatever had spurred them into laughter the first time.

"We should stop," John panted once he could speak, holding what Sherlock took to be a stitch in his side from the laughing fit. 

"You agreed to kiss me," Sherlock argued, arching an eyebrow. John shook his head.

"I did, but... I can't, Sherlock, it would just--"

"Then let me," Sherlock offered, a tinge of hopefulness in his voice. John looked away for a second before nodding, smiling softly at his flatmate. 

Sherlock pushed John onto his back, settling on top of him. He kissed him slowly, letting his tongue probe around John's mouth -- it tasted like coffee and smoke, two of Sherlock's favourite flavours.

John shut his eyes and let Sherlock have his way with him, kissing and licking and sucking and tasting his mouth. Time seemed to slow while they snogged. He could feel himself start to harden under the pressing weight of the long body over him, and thought he felt a similar reaction against his thigh.

"Sherlock," he gasped between kisses, trying to move his hips and gain some friction.

"I know," Sherlock assured, dropping kisses along John's face and neck as he started to rock against him, offering a bit more sensation. John let out a whimper, his hands squeezing Sherlock's hips in encouragement as he gave himself over to his lust. His head fell back, his soft panting filling the room as Sherlock paid attention to his jaw, working his way down and keeping up the steady friction. After several long minutes of the same slow pace, John let out a desperate noise.

"Faster," he demanded, moving his own hips up against Sherlock at his desired pace. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge if only Sherlock would move with him. 

"No. You'll come and it'll be over. I'm not finished yet," the detective objected a bit breathlessly. How many chances would he get with John like this? He wasn't about to let it end that quickly. "Let me take care of this or I'll stop altogether." When no further movement came from the man beneath him, Sherlock smirked and went back to sucking bruises onto John's neck and rolling their groins together. He could feel John's cock against his leg and was surprised at how large he was for his short stature. No wonder his dates put up with so much. He let out a shaky breath when he felt John's thighs clamp against him. 

"You're too tense, John," Sherlock sighed, halting his hips and pressing a hand against John's stomach where the muscles were taut with strain. "Here. Don't tense your muscles." It took a moment, but John let his body go limp. Sherlock rewarded him with movement, kissing his lips again languidly.

John was surprised to find that it felt much better. All of the sensation seemed to be centered between his legs, the rest of his body feeling like tingly dead weight. Every time Sherlock rocked against him, a wave of pleasure pulsed through his body, rolling from his cock all the way down to his fingers and toes. He couldn't help the moans and gasps that fell from his lips as his flatmate brought him closer and closer to the edge. The noises seemed to spur Sherlock on, causing him to move a bit faster. 

"Oh God," John whispered, fighting to keep still and not tense up again. Sherlock was grinding against him at a maddening pace, just barely enough. He was pressing down on John everywhere, and it felt good, so good as the familiar heat coiled in their bellies.

Sherlock took that as some sort of cue and quickly opened both of their trousers, taking their erections in one of his hands as he rocked and stroked them together. 

"Sherlock," John said in a soft whine, spreading his legs further and twisting beneath him, offering no objections to being jerked off by the genius. He felt ready to burst as his grip on Sherlock's hips tightened, fingers digging into the bony flesh. Sherlock licked a stripe up John's neck to his ear.

"You look perfect like this, John," he whispered hoarsely. "Desperate to come in my hand. Next time won't be this quick." He grabbed a handful of John's hair, twisting his fingers through it and started to work his hips faster, causing the couch to squeak in protest under their weight. "Next time I'm going to bend you over and have you begging for me to fuck you," he continued, words coming out in a hot rush against John's ear as he felt his own orgasm getting closer. "Come, John. Now," he growled. 

John let out a long groan as his body arched up and his toes curled, climax crashing through him. His body shuddered in several short, erratic bursts as he kept coming, his vision going white. Sherlock writhed against him, thrusting a few more times into his hand before following John over the edge, the hand wrapped up in blonde hair tightening its hold as he moaned through his orgasm. He collapsed onto John, both panting heavily. 

Once they had caught their breath, John glanced at the coffee table, noting how little was left of the joint. Following his gaze, Sherlock smirked down at him.

"We have enough for another."


End file.
